Rescued by the Captain (Winter Rescue)

1. Bria

1

brIA

Where am I?

As I get up from the ground, seeing the world become less of a blur around me, tall trees file one after another in rows, their branches stripped of green, and a million questions strike me.

Who am I?

Why am I here?

What — or who — brought me to this place?

Chills crawl across my skin. Could be because my arms are covered in nothing but a thin coat. I’m definitely dressed for autumn, or a short walk outdoors. But not to travel through the heart of the cold, windy woods.

I dust the dirt off my jeans. They fit my curves snugly yet weigh on my achy body heavily. I don’t recall putting on this coat or these jeans. The leather boots on my feet thud against the earth, echoing like drums.

The only thing I know is that I want to move. I stagger forward, balancing myself on tree trunks when I sway too sharply. It’s hard to walk at first, but I get better the further I go.

But how far do I need to go?

I have no idea where I’m headed. Home? I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint that place on a map.

Nothing rings familiar. But I don’t even know if I’d be able to tell if something was familiar.

What do I know?

I’m here, deep in the woods right now. There looks to be nothing but bony trees for a long while.

And, a wet sensation is trickling down my scalp. I reach to wipe off the moisture. But when I lower my wrist, I realize the damp smear on it is scarlet.

Scarlet red, the color of fresh blood.

My legs lurch backwards. It’s a reflex, almost as if the sight of blood is recognition that something more has happened.

But I don’t step out of danger. There is nothing to run away from. The air is still; quiet stretches as far as I can hear. I’m all alone.

So, I ignore the droplets that drizzle the earth and keep walking. Keep moving .

My brown hair carries in the breeze. It helps me feel a little less revealed— like I’m protected from the openness of the woods. Maybe I’ll even see my reflection soon . The woods look too cold to have a river, but maybe there will be a cabin soon.

As I walk, snowflakes brush my face.

I don’t know if I want to be found or not.

Is there anyone looking for me?

Donte

I swerve onto the main road, eyes narrowed in thought. It’s a bad habit of mine. When I clock out of work, I should leave work behind at the station. But that’s easier said than done.

Especially when you’re replaying every stupid answer you gave during a job interview.

Damn it .

Colt Briggs. He’s the sheriff of Storm Canyon and has a mug so cold he could make a Marine Corps jump out of their skin. I’d know. I sat in his office for a half an hour, and I haven’t the slightest clue if I utterly bombed my interview or am about to be called into the police force soon.

I hope it’s the latter. A lot of the ex-military guys that I know celebrate being off the job like they’ve been released from hell. They don’t miss being woken in the middle of the night, told that they have to pace rocky terrain just to finish a single mission.

Meanwhile, I’ve felt like a husk ever since I’ve finished service. The crave for action an internal calling.

Search and rescue does have its rewarding moments. When you’re actually summoned to help someone . At the ripe age of 38, I don’t exactly feel ready to fuck off with my money and pursue a “normal” career until I save up enough for retirement. That’s stale and mundane. I thrive off intensity. Constantly needing to be somewhere. If I score the police officer position, I’ll be able to get the professional clockwork I’ve been craving.

As I reach a red light, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is swept to the side with a fringe that brushes my eyes. I’ve let the color mingle in a mix of salt-and-pepper and my original brown. I wouldn’t say that I’m serious about vanity, but I like to keep fit in the gym so that I can be in prime shape for demanding jobs. Plus, it’s a bit fun to startle someone with a fleeting glance.

The light flashes green. I start to pull the car forward when my phone rings. I connect it to the car speaker and accept.

“Rogers, we’ve been alerted of possible car tracks off the Thunderhead Pass. Winter storm is coming in about forty-five minutes, which leaves us a tight window to handle this,” Sheriff Colt says.

I furrow my brows. “Is the pathway accessible?”

“No, but we figure you’re the closest responder we’ve got to the mountain, so you might want to check this out. I know you’re off duty, so only a quick assessment of the conditions would suffice.”

I confirm that I’ll be on my way and disconnect the call. Car tracks next to a mountain . Sounds like the precursor to every horror story ever. Not to mention, the last spot you’d want to be before a storm.

I turn on the radio as I start for Thunderhead Pass. A husky, baritone voice begins to croon. I freeze up for a second, recalling that this is Nina’s favorite song.

The song that she sent to me before she ? —

I mute the radio. There’s no need for music while I’m doing work, even if I’m technically off-duty.

I can’t forget what happened, and I have to focus right now.

When I reach the scene, I don’t even have to reference my GPS to know that I’m at the right place. To say that a scuffle went on would be an understatement. From my seat, I spot splotches of blood and scattered footprints.

I dial Colt’s number as I exit my car. “Sheriff, I’ve found the vehicle,” I say once we’re connected.

“Copy. Any signs of human presence?”

I press my face up against the frosted windows. The interior of the car is speckled with blood. But as far as I can tell, whoever was inside didn’t leave any identifying traces behind. At least, nothing that is in immediate sight.

I glance to my right and notice something strange. There are three sets of tracks— two going up the hill, one leading into the forest. There are tampons, fingernail polish and what looks like a woman’s belongings marked along the forest tracks.

“Sheriff, I’ve found a trail that I think could lead me to some identifying information… but I’ll have to see.”

Colt doesn’t waste a second cutting my plan short. “In this weather? Rogers, if the scene is clear, you should retreat until we can gather and approach the situation with the necessary precautions —”

“I’m a first responder, Sheriff. If someone is lost in the woods, I have to save them.”

“Rogers, I’m advising you that this is too dangerous —”

Bzzzzz.

I switch off the com and bury my phone in my pocket.

I couldn’t save Nina, but maybe I can save this person.